Summary

Before the stories of the virus spread, everyone had thought that zombies and a zombie apocalypse would be cool.

It would be a chance for the paranoid, video-gamers and those prepared for anything to shine and save the day. But once the closest thing to an actual zombie apocalypse happens... well, no one makes jokes about it anymore.

Summary

Stiles doesn’t ask Derek about the others. Doesn’t ask him about Malia or Liam or Kira or Lydia. Doesn’t ask him about Scott, because she’s pretty fucking sure that if any of them had made it, it wouldn’t have been Derek climbing through her window. At least not alone. It would have been Scott. If Scott had lived, he would have come for her. Always.

“I’m with you until the end of the line,” Scott had whispered to her temple the last time she’d gotten herself into the middle of their werewolf shit. She’d been tacky with blood and hurting everywhere, but his words had made shriek with laughter and bump their shoulders together anyway, gasping, “Don’t quote Captain America at me right now, you enormous asshole, laughing hurts!”

Well, look at that, she thinks, watching the world spin by outside Derek’s SUV.

Summary

Jack calls his dad for some DIY help. When Bob gets there it's a little more than he was expecting.

-

Bob was not old enough for this. In fact he doubted he ever would be old enough for this. Surely the universe allowed you a one time get out of jail card for these kind of situations. Staring at the mess of equipment and parts on the floor Bob tried his best to keep a straight face but was failing. To be fair though it’s hard to keep a straight face when the thing your son wants you to help build is a goddamn sex swing.